All that you mask, and all you reveal
by frostvixen
Summary: "It appears I'm not the only liar in this situation, Ms. Romanov." Loki twirled the knife in his hands. "Care to elaborate, darling?" Her eyes could slice him in half, were they capable.


This is fairly old and hasn't been through an edit in at least a year, but I felt that getting everything recent on here was a good idea. _Appallingly little, but still. _

This veers on OOC towards the end, I feel, however I've been told differently. Make your own judgement, though I'm not too concerned with editing this particular fic. IC ideas for phrasing and such are welcomed, as is constructive criticism!

**Warning:** This has mentions of self-multilation and rape. Nothing overly graphic, particular instances are mentioned but in very little detail. Read with caution if such is a trigger for you.

**Disclamer**: I, Sami (frostvixen/Morta Malism/i don't even remember how many usernames I've had here), own nothing. All characters are owned by Marvel. I simply enjoy playing with them. Title is a line borrowed from the Collide song Like You Want To Believe. Look up the Antistatic Mix if you're into soundtracks, as I was obsessed with Collide at the time of writing.

x

"It appears I'm not the only liar in this situation, Ms. Romanov." Loki twirled the knife in his hands. "Care to elaborate, darling?"

Her eyes could slice him in half, were they capable.

"Oh, come now, Natasha. It's not as if I'm being belligerent here. Tell me what you try so desperately to conceal. I'll find out one way or another."

She stood, arms bound behind her back. Her panties were riding up her ass, probably due to the fact that she'd been sitting on a stone floor, not to mention her lack of pants. Or anything more than panties, a bra, and a tank top, all black.

"Tell me what you try to hide. If you're going to kill me, its only fair."

Loki laughed, a deep rumble from his chest that quickly turned to a mad cackle. "Your cards first, my sweet. I asked first, after all, and if we're playing fair..."

Natasha licked her dry and cracking lips. "I know what you've been doing."

"Aside from the torture, I suppose?"

She cocked her head. "I didn't know you thought me to be such a fool. I may have picked up on the torture, yeah."

Loki smirked, running the cool steel across his face. "The non-obvious, then."

"The cutting, burning, and other assorted methods of self mutilation."

"Mm. Glad to see someone has. When ever did you catch on?"

She watched him pace. It pleased her to see him in distress. Breaking him might be easier than she thought, even with knowing some of his dirty little secrets.

"Months ago." Another coat of saliva on her lips, "You don't hide it well. Scratches down the back heal much faster than yours have."

He shrugged. "They do, don't they? I have to say, this Midgardian corpse I've been reduced to is less stable than I expected. I knew your kind were weak. I didn't know you were fragile."

"I'm surprised that you managed to keep my marks from beginning to end. You had to use something. You're not flexible enough to do it yourself, sweetcakes."

"The coat hangers beside the door. Perfectly suited to preserving such wounds. Not too sharp to make clean lines, not too dull to break the scab."

Natasha wanted so badly to steal the knife in his hand. Her bindings were cutting into her skin.

Loki noticed her stillness. "Stoicism won't get you far. Do you forget that I can see through you, Natasha? I know you better than any other could." Arms clasped behind his back, he approached her, descending down the three steps leading to the quasi-arena he'd constructed.

He started circling her wordlessly. She made a point to show no emotion, nor watch as he strode behind her once, twice, thrice...

"You confided in me. You trusted me. You spread for me." He made a point to emphasize 'spread.' He'd stopped circling when he reached her ear.

He could smell her hair, the scent of her spicy perfume, the sweat running down her back... her. All of her. "You loved me, Natasha Romanov." He hissed in her ear. "And I will decimate you for such a grandiose mistake."

Again, her expression was blank. "You loved me too."

"Did I? You cannot be certain."

"Bullshit."

"Why then, my sweet, am I going to torture you?"

She could almost taste the calculated venom in his voice. Her answer was painfully simple. "You're afraid."

"What do I have to fear? You cannot harm me. I'm above mortality."

"You fear me, Loki."

He was circling her again. "Do I really?"

"So deeply you're drowning in it."

Loki was face to face with her, staring her down.

Her eyes bored into his. "I won't fight you. I know you want me to. I won't do it."

"And if I give you no other choice? There's only so much you can take, despite your superhuman abilities. I know your breaking point, and I'll relish every blow it takes to make you scream."

She chuckled. "You already know how to make me scream. You have those scratches for a reason, don't you remember? I don't mean to brag, but I'm not an easy fuck to forget."

"But that would be so boring. No, you deserve better; more effort, more control. It's no fun if you enjoy yourself."

"I know about the nightmares." Natasha spoke as if commenting on the weather.

He laughed. "How observant of you. Tell me, just how did you figure it out?"

"It's kind of difficult not to notice the person sleeping beside you twitching violently and near-screaming every night. I know more than that you have them."

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow.

She licked her lips again. "I know what they're about."

He was silent. She could tell he was fuming beneath the half-assed facade.

"You were tortured when you were tried. More than that, it wasn't all flogging and beatings. You were raped. Repeatedly."

He was glaring. Rage and malice burned in his emerald eyes. She could tell his entire body tensed considerably the second she uttered that he was violated.

"I'm not the only being in this room that's been tainted as a method of torture."

Natasha's heart lightened. He was starting to be honest with her. She was getting to him. 'I never denied it."

"You have night terrors about your own." He spat. "You curl into a ball, writhing, fighting someone who hasn't come near you in years, what with being a rotting corpse. You made certain of that."

"I did."

"Yet it still torments you. It gnaws at who you are. There isn't a moment where you forget what happened. It's etched in your memory, and in your essence. You decay from the inside out. It's agonizingly slow." His tone lightened. "You still have not answered why I am allegedly afraid of you."

She nearly retched when she tried to swallow, her mouth was so dry.

"I can hurt you." She croaked.

Loki was silent once again, continuously circling her like a lion to a gazelle.

"Physically, no. Psychologically, I can wound you in ways not even Odin could."

He paused behind her at 7 o'Clock.

"You chose to love me. You never had any obligation."

"Why, then, do I feel the raging desire to destroy you? Laying waste to that which you love is hardly an expression of endearment. Even Midgard couldn't be so ass-backwards."

"Because you've been afraid the entire time, and lashing out is easier than swallowing your fear."

"And it feels infinitely more pleasurable."

"You don't know that."

She turned slightly. "This wouldn't hurt you so much if you weren't in love with me, Loki."

He crept up behind her, again at her ear. "Are you still in love with me?"

It was surprising how vulnerable he sounded. He spoke with no malice. Natasha fought back the urge to turn fully and touch him in some way. Watching him bounce from so commanding and in control to barely able to contain white-hot anger, to so innocent was agonizing.

"You'd be face down with your intestines wrapped around your neck if I didn't."

He cut in before she could speak further, voice quivering, no doubt involuntarily. "Don't be cheeky. Say the words."

A pause before she responded.

"Yes. I am. I'm still in love with you."

"Even now?"

She had to work to keep her breathing steady. "Even now."

She heard the knife behind his back fall to the floor. He was shaking, so close to her that she could feel every tremble as if it were her own.

"Why?" He hissed.

"Does love need an explanation?"

He scoffed.

"I don't know why. I know why I like you. I know how you make me feel. I know why I allowed you to touch me. I know why I enjoyed every touch, every stroke, every whimper. But I can't tell you why I love you. I just know that I do."

"How can you be so certain?" He bellowed, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to face him. "How can you possibly know and not know why?"

She let her demeanor slip, tears welling up and making her throat hurt.

"Tell me!"

"As a spy, you learn not to question orders."

He was starting to show his madness. Another sign in the right direction. "So I somehow ordered you to love me?"

She shook her head, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

"Then how? Were you ordered to by your superiors?" He half-whimpered, starting to cry himself.

"No! I just felt like I had to, not out of obligation or some sense of pity, or because my job demanded it." She shifted. She felt blood drip into her hands from the rope. "And I'm glad I did."

He shook his head violently, his nails digging into his scalp and forehead.

She drove the rope into her skin deeper, biting her lip to keep from whimpering, and pulled one hand free, then the other. "Loki, no." She raised her hands, one cupping his cheek, the other covering one of his own.

"That's not the way to go. It won't help. Believe me when I say I know. It just makes everything worse."

He noticed her wrists, tears pouring down his cheeks as he heaved for breath. "You're hurt."

"I'll heal." She slipped a few fingers beneath his hand as his grip loosened. "So will you."

Loki bent down, sobbing into her arms. It took awhile for him to regain enough composure to speak without hyperventilating.

"How can you know this?"

She cupped his cheek, and pulled him into a kiss.

He could be so daft sometimes.


End file.
